Faith took the letter and opened it hastily. As she glanced rapidly over the writing she blushed as red as a poppy.
"Got a mash note?" asked Miss Jones with a careless glance at the letter.
"Not exactly," stammered Faith, "but it is almost as unpleasant. It is from a man whom Bob Hardy spoke to me about—a fellow who thinks because I am poor that he can buy my soul with his superfluous money!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE POISONED CANDY.
But Faith had only read a part of the letter when she made her statement, for, on a closer perusal, she found she was mistaken. If the writer had ever dreamed of tempting her with the lure of proffered luxury he admitted his change of opinion in terms of honest candor.
"Dear Child," the letter read, "since our meeting the other evening I have been thinking constantly how I best could win your esteem and affection. That I should desire the friendship of a pure, young girl would sound strange to the ears of many worldly people, but to you, who are as distant from worldliness as are the angels in heaven, the suggestion can bring only bewildering sensations. To say that I am ashamed does not half express my feelings. To say that I wish to make immediate amends does not convey to you the half of my eagerness in that direction.
"Will you allow me to call upon you at your home? This is the request of a man who was once a gentleman, but who, through the bitterness of disappointment, had lost faith in all things holy."
The letter was signed "Cornelius C. Deering."